Dress for Success
by SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Written for the Dragon Age Reddit Weekly Writing Prompt: "That's a terrible idea and it's never going to work…. I'm in." There is no way that Fen'lath is going to go to Halamshiral dressed in... that.


Rubbing her forehead, Fen'lath set the papers Josephine had stuffed into her hands on her desk. "They're hideous, Dorian. I'm either going to end up stuffed in that ghastly red uniform, or something so impractically Orlesian I won't be able to do anything in it."

"We'll figure it out, my darling. I can pull off the military look, but I've requested mine be done in a teal that will compliment my coloring."

"It's easy for you to convince Josephine and Vivienne to let you choose something different. Since I'm the 'Dalish savage', I simply can't be left on my own when my wardrobe is in question." The bitingly sarcastic impression of Vivienne made Dorian snicker.

"That's why you have me." Dorian's eyes narrowed in calculation. "Can you draw?"

Fen looked up from the clothing sketches. "What does my artistic talent have to do with anything?"

He let out a pained groan, "Your innocence wounds me, Fen. If you can draw, you can sketch something you feel is acceptable and I could vet it for you."

"Oh. That's a terrible idea and it's never going to work…" Dorian raised a single eyebrow, merely waiting as she looked back down at the horrific creations laid out before her. "I'm in." She looked back down, "But I'm afraid I can do passable sketches of plants, and that's it. When it comes to people and clothing, it's most decidedly not my wheelhouse."

Dorian let out another, smaller groan, then left his perch on Fen's ugly Orlesian settee. "Then wait here one moment, darling, while I fetch an artist for us."

Slumping into her desk chair, Fen leaned her head back and racked her brain for ideas. What did she want to wear? Josephine would insist on something Inquisition-related in her dress, certainly, if she wasn't in uniform or kowtowing to Orlesian fashion. As it was, it had been months since she had been allowed to choose even her smallclothes. Mythal's mercy, she had 'lost' close to three dozen pairs of boots and shoes before she was given Josephine's blessing to wear footwraps whenever she wanted.

In comparison, the Antivan diplomat and Enchanter had been reasonable when it came to the clothing she would wear in the two weeks prior to the ball, while she had to be paraded around for the Orlesians who had donated to the Inquisition like a prize hart. Fen had to admit some of the gowns were gorgeous, so why were her choices for the ball so appallingly bad?

While she fretted, however, an idea was forming… something similar to the ancient Elvhen armor in the fading frescoes she'd seen during Lavellan's wanderings? Maybe a forest green underdress? She started drumming her fingers on her lips. It could work, and was preferable to the hideous uniform or the peacock dress Vivienne had dreamed up, with so many gems, tucks, and layers of skirt she would barely be able to move. Did Vivienne _want_ Celene to die because she couldn't move swiftly?

"Knock knock!" Dorian called up the stairs. "I believe you know this young lady, my darling. I managed to abscond from the laundresses with her."

Recognizing the young elven woman, Fen stood up, "You made it! Oh, I'm so glad. I never knew your name, and no one could tell me. We all look alike to most, apparently."

"Your Worship!" Dorian held her arm gently to keep her from falling to her knees as she had all those months ago in Haven. "I-I am honored you even recognize me!"

"Please, _lethallan_, call me Fen'lath or Fen. What's your name?"

"Lady Fen'lath," she looked uncomfortable, so uncomfortable, using Fen's name, even with the title. "My name is Shelli, Your- my lady."

"Shelli. Since Dorian dragged you up here, I take it you're an artist? Do you draw clothing designs?"

Shelli flushed. She couldn't even meet Fen's eyes as she spoke, "Yes, my lady. After my shift in the laundry, I go to the seamstress' loft to learn, and I sketch out the patterns for her."

Fen'lath's smile was tight, but genuine."I'm in a bit of a bind. You see, the Inquisition is attending a ball at the Winter Palace, and I am not happy with the wardrobe choices that my advisors have given me for the evening. Would you please sketch out what I describe for you so I have something of my own to present to them?"

"Are you serious?" Shelli squeaked, eyes going wide.

"Absolutely."

* * *

"Oh, my darling, I cannot _wait_ to see the look on Madame de Fer's face when you present these sketches to her and Josephine." Dorian held up the three sheaves of parchment. "Vivienne will probably have a conniption over the two green ones."

"You think?" Fen gave him an impish grin.

"You're terrible, you know that?"

"I do. But, I'm far more stubborn than she will ever be. I'll just tell Josephine and Vivienne that if we don't settle on one of my ideas, I'll treat it as their agreement that I can go in one of my Dalish outfits."

"Of the three, I think they'll be able to keep from swooning long enough to agree on the purple," Dorian set the parchment down on the table next to his chair. "They're all incredibly Dalish, you know."

"I know!" She ran a finger down the side of one sketch. "I do think this green one stands a chance, though. Most Orlesians haven't seen the frescoes of ancient Elvhen armor, and I did put the Inquisition symbol on the chestpiece and belt."

"Where on earth did you get the idea for this one, Fen?" He held up the sketch of the other green dress, bringing his wineglass to his mouth with the other.

"Have you ever seen a Chasind mage?"

Dorian choked on his sip of wine, "Oh, Fen, darling, tell me you didn't!"

She busted up laughing, and leaned against the library railing. "I most certainly did, with a Dalish twist. It covers a bit more than the armor they wear, but Leliana tells me that anyone familiar with it will know."

"So you have them against a wall, as it were. Either they let you wear your normal armor, or you go in a dress reminiscent of the old elves, a dress based on Chasind armor, or this one?" He held up the sketch of the purple dress. "I do love how you hide that the dress is basically a fancier version of those Keeper robes we found in the Plains."

"Contrary to what Josephine and Vivienne think, I'm there to stop an assassination, not pander to Orlesian snobs. I need to have something that works as armor _and _a dress."

He nodded, and took another sip. "Well, the purple has my vote. It will be gorgeous with your coloring, and compliment my teal."

"As a bonus, it's a show of support for Celene. Imperial colors, and all that nonsense."

Concern pinched Dorian's brow. "Can we afford for you to do that so overtly? We're only able to attend due to the invitation from the Grand Duke."

Fen's face went hard. "I still remember my first _Arlathvhen_, Dorian. The Ralaferin clan had gone from close to one hundred and fifty elves to less than seventy because the Grand Duke and his band of Chevaliers had 'driven them away' from the area around Ville Montevelan." Dorian's eyes were troubled. "They weren't a threat, before you ask. They were passing through in their wanderings and had traded in the Ville. After the massacre," Dorian blinked at the word, but Fen'lath pressed on, "the massacre, the Chevaliers, under the oh-so-honorable Grand Duke's supervision, looted everything they could carry, including all the food stores and all the coin the clan had received from their trade." Fen'lath gritted her teeth, "Gaspard de Chalons can choke."

"But Celene, and the alienage-"

"I know, Dorian, I know. But, there is another thing. We weren't in Redcliffe very long, but Celene dying is what lead to that future." She swallowed, hard. "I have no reason to believe that Gaspard's ascension will prevent Corypheus rising. If I can stabilize Orlais for the sake of my people after that, it's a bonus."

"That is true." Dorian sighed. "I'll be by your side while we're in Orlais, darling. I hope you realize."

"I know, Dorian. Just think of all the gossip we can start, too." She gestured grandly, "It's practically the only part of the evening I am looking forward to. That and seeing Solas in formalwear."

Fen busted up laughing as Dorian choked on his wine again.


End file.
